


Across Time and Space

by round_robin



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Data isn't an android, Found Family, Holodecks/Holosuites, Kaer Morhen, Love Bites, M/M, Mentioned Jaskier | Dandelion, Teleportation, gratuitous world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Data did not remember his name. Not the name his mother gave him, nor the name the Witchers gave him after he came to them. The name he went by—Data—was part of a fractured memory, repeated over and over in his mind until it was the only name he'd ever known. Vesemir and the others, his brothers in arms, tried to tell him, but all he heard was [REDACTED].So, Data he became.
Relationships: Data/William Riker, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 55





	Across Time and Space

**Author's Note:**

> I offer a full apology for the people who follow me for my Star Trek TNG fics. I let the Witcher sweep me away, and now I got an idea where Data is a Witcher... Feel free to skip this one, and once again, my apologies. There is Data/Riker... at the end. Sorry. For anyone who came here for the Geralt/Jaskier, that's only mentioned, not actually on screen. Sorry. This fic will please no one.
> 
> I don't know who outside of me will enjoy this cross over and fully expect zero people to read it. But as soon as I realized that Data has yellow eyes, and so do Witchers... yeah, it wasn't a hard connection for me to make. Also, I looked it up, the word "data" didn't come into use until the 16th century... well, whatever, I'm still using it.
> 
> Data is a Witcher, he had extra trials just like Geralt, but his made him age very, very slowly and he made it all the way to the future. Enjoy <3

Data did not remember his name. Not the name his mother gave him, nor the name the Witchers gave him after he came to them. The name he went by—Data—was part of a fractured memory, repeated over and over in his mind until it was the only name he'd ever known. Vesemir and the others, his brothers in arms, tried to tell him, but all he heard was [REDACTED].

So, Data he became.

The mages had two new formulas they wanted to try, _enhanced_ formulas. One that increased strength, speed and stamina beyond what Witchers were already capable of, and the other to enhance the mind, created the perfect calculating brain to almost replace every book in the library if need be. Geralt was the natural choice for the first; he was a kind boy, always laughing and joking when they were allowed such things, but there was a hidden steel under his skin, a power there waiting to be tapped. It was so obvious, even the other boys saw it, so naturally the mages did too.

Data, or whatever he was called before, was an obvious second candidate. The only other boy who spent as much time in the library as he did was Eskel, and the mages were bubbling over “magic potential” in him. They used words like _potential_ , and _promise_ in front of the boys, but Data overheard the old bastards talking to the Master Witchers. “We always lose a few, that's part of the process. Want stronger Witchers? A few will have to die, what's losing a few of the weak ones?”

But Vesemir, loyal, caring Vesemir, pushed back. “You're not taking weak ones anymore, Geralt is strong, and so is—” [REDACTED].

Yet the mages got what they wanted. Data remembered Geralt strapped on the table next to him. Their bodies were restrained at the shoulders, but they were too far away to touch. Data tried to reach out for his friend, fingers falling a few inches short. “Geralt, hold on.” The words echoed through his oldest memories, and sometimes in his dreams.

“Data, data, we need more data!” the mages grumbled, standing over him with parchment stained in blots of ink where they were writing too fast for the quill, and spots of Data's own blood. Or maybe it was Geralt's... “How are his muscles reacting? When did you take his temperature last? Fuck, where did you put that data sheet...”

In the end, all the other boys picked for advanced trials didn't make it, just Geralt and Data. But it worked, the mages were sure to crow about that. Geralt was stronger, more focused, the perfect monster hunter. And Data, his mind was sharper, or so they said. They presented him with the longest potion ingredient list they could find and he managed to recite it in its entirety after less than a minute of study. Knowledge that took other initiates (other Witchers) several days to fully memorize took Data a matter of seconds. He was a success.

Or, maybe he wasn't. After they recovered, Vesemir spent a few weeks watching them both. He frowned when Data didn't recognize the sound of his own name, or show any emotion. Geralt's were subdued, buried under a layer of his training and now the advanced mutations, but Data's were... no longer accessible. He tried to find them, tried to smile when Eskel jumped at him and Geralt. “Thank fuck you're alive!” He tried to joke and laugh with his classmates, but it didn't work.

They never used Data's formula again, making him—and Geralt—one of a kind.

By the time they realized the other changes their mutations made, it was too late. Vesemir was dead, the last person who might explain why Data and Geralt weren't aging like Eskel or even Lambert. Eskel tried to find any information, he even went down to the accursed laboratory they all swore they'd never set foot into again, trying to find some mage's notes.

“Sorry, Data,” he said every winter. They all adjusted to his name by now, only took fifty years or so... “Nothing turned up.”

“You do not have to keep looking. I am... resigned with how I am. I have adapted.”

Eskel slid down the bench and brushed his shoulder against Data's. “We'll spar tomorrow. I found a dissertation on a Zerikkanian style over the summer, I had six months to memorize it, I'll give you an hour. We'll see who has it down better.”

“I'll take that bet,” Geralt said. “My money's on Data.”

Geralt did pass away eventually, after Eskel and Lambert went, but Data stayed the same. He looked at his face every day, cataloging the changes. There never were any, not of consequence. A wrinkle after four hundred years, one strand of gray hair after a millennia. The world turned, technology grew and changed, men went to war with dangerous new weapons and he tried to stay out of it. Witchers were neutral, and even if Data was the last Witcher, he'd keep to that code until the end of his life, which looked very far off indeed.

After the Earth was tamed—all monsters gone, killed by change or new human weapons—Data went to the stars. Surely other planets had creatures that needed to be killed? Slime beasts that lurked in swamps, eating helpless villagers? He did alright, traveling through the galaxy with his swords on his back. Whenever he killed an alien beast, he thought to himself, _what would Geralt think? Or Eskel? Or Lambert? Or Vesemir? What would they say?_

But he was lonely. Earth had calmed down, united under one rule—the Federation—and everyone seemed happy. It wouldn't violate Data's neutrality if there was only one government... He absorbed all the information he could about starships and applied to Starfleet academy.

The Enterprise was a wonder, and for Data, who'd seen many wonders in his too long life, that really was saying something. Everyone got along with him and didn't stare at his strange yellow eyes, or ask why he didn't smile. Surrounded by people once again, Data started trying to learn that which was most elusive to him: how to feel. After so long walking the world, and then the stars, he started unlocking his deeply buried emotions. It was a slow process, and sometimes, it still seemed his feelings were under a sheet of glass, held apart from him forever. When he pressed his face against that glass, he got a small spark... and it was enough. After he met Will Riker, the sparks happened more often, and that was more than enough.

Holodecks were Data's favorite modern invention, above the food replicator and indoor plumbing. For the first time, he had full access to a holodeck and was allowed to make his own programs. Every time he walked through those doors into the perfectly rendered replica of Kaer Morhen, Data almost felt happiness well up inside him, it was a warmth in his stomach, which he concluded to mean happiness.

Geralt and Eskel waited for him across the courtyard, Lambert lounging on the bench in the shade. “You're late,” Eskel joked. “Said you'd be here an hour ago.”

“I got caught up.” Though they were in their shirtsleeves and breeches, Data wore his full armor to practice. It took a lot to keep historical weaponry and armor maintained, and Data was fastidious about it; his swords were in perfect condition, his armor remade a few times using the old methods. His chest swelled whenever he put it on, a physical sensation he identified as pride. Yes, Data was proud of his School, always had been, even when he didn't have the word for it.

Lambert stood up from the bench and sauntered over, tapping Eskel on the shoulder. “Alright, let the two super Witchers fight it out. You know they like having the first round to show off.”

Eskel gave an exaggerated bow and went to join Lambert. Geralt shook his head. “Why do they always do that to us?” he grumbled, but there was a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Shall we begin?”

Data and Geralt fell into an easy flow, though he didn't have Geralt's extra strength, Data's catalog of combat tactics was unmatched, he easily outmaneuvered the raw power of the White Wolf. But they weren't really fighting, the blows half power at best. “Lambert told me you met a bard on The Path this year. Will you bring him home?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and deftly parried, striking quickly only to have Data dodge. “Not you too. Now I have Jaskier, Lambert _and_ you begging me.”

“I simply wish to see you happy, brother.”

With Data's perfect memories of his long lost brothers in arms, the holodeck knew exactly when their duel would tire Geralt. He flapped a hand and Data stopped. “Need a rest. Let's see what Vesemir has for lunch.”

Data watched the three walk into the castle and sighed to himself. He checked the angle of the sun and the simulated temperature of the air. If his memory served (and it always did) on this particular day, Vesemir growled at them for trying to steal pieces of that night's roast pheasant and sent them away with some cold meat and cheese. A perfect after training meal, if Data said so himself, planning to order some from the replicator as soon as he got back to his quarters. Discontinuing the program, he watched the castle fade and headed back into the hall.

Data only visited the holodeck in his full armor at night. He wasn't ashamed of it, far from it, he simply didn't want to explain to anyone. They all looked at his eyes and shrugged it off as just another difference in the world, as far as Data knew, Witchers were all but forgotten in this time. He rather wanted it to stay that way. Too many memories that made his heart catch in his chest, a pressure he recognized as pain.

But the best laid plans often went awry. Head down as he unbuckled his gauntlets, Data turned a corner and almost ran into Worf. A mix of enhanced Witcher reflexes and Klingon battle instincts prevented the collision, but Worf's eyes went wide when he saw Data's armor, and the swords on his back. “Greetings, Data. Holodeck?”

It took a moment for Data to untie his tongue. “Yes, holodeck. My apologies. I was not looking where I was going.”

Worf shook his head, eyes devouring Data's armor, lingering on his swords, still strapped to his back. “I have never seen armor like this. What human culture is it from? I've studied all Earth warrior traditions, but this isn't familiar to me.”

 _Fuck_. Whenever Data swore, even inside his own mind, the voice always sounded like Lambert's. “It is late. Perhaps another time?”

Worf frowned, but relented. “Yes, I didn't notice the hour. Normal security rounds, sometimes I lose track of the time. Goodnight, Data.”

“Goodnight.” Data went back to his quarters and stripped his armor, putting it away safely. He'd oil and maintain it tomorrow, but right now, he wanted that after training snack. Though replicated food was never as good as real meat (and no cooking could ever compare to Vesemir's) Data enjoyed the meat and cheese, thinking of Geralt, Eskel and Lambert sitting beside him as he ate, Lambert telling some insane story about streaking through Novigrad on a drunken bet.

~

Worf asked him a few times about the armor, but Data was always able to find some reason he couldn't be part of a lengthy discussion. He managed to put the Klingon off for a while... Until Geralt and Ciri appeared in the middle of the bridge.

They were on their way to Starbase 17 for routine maintenance, Commander Riker leaning in to hear Captain Picard tell a story from his academy days, when a flash of green light brought them all to high alert.

“Red alert!” Picard shouted.

“What the fuck?”

Data blinked at the familiar voice and quickly adjusted his pupils. Geralt stood in the middle of the bridge, steel sword drawn, standing back to back with Ciri as they fell into well practiced combat tactics. Data was on his feet, arms extended out, holding Worf and his phaser back from Geralt and his sword. “Everyone, stop! They are friends!”

The crew of the Enterprise fell back into a defensive posture, but Geralt still had his sword out, teeth bared as he protected his daughter. Ciri, always quicker to trust than her father, whirled around, bright green eyes settling on him. “Uncle Data! Geralt, put your sword away, it worked! Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Geralt did not put his sword away, eyes sweeping around, focusing on Worf and the phaser in his hand. Whether he recognized it as a weapon or not, Geralt read Worf's posture and clocked him as an enemy combatant. “We were supposed to go see Data.”

“And look! There he is!” Ciri smiled and pushed past Geralt, running and hugging Data. “It's been ages! Geralt said you liked to hunt in Toussaint, and I tried to get us there...”

“I am afraid you missed the mark a little.” But Data hugged her back, squeezing her tight. Geralt wasn't just remarkable for his extra mutations, but for his ability to draw people towards him. Time was, Geralt was the only Witcher with a proper family, now Data also shared that honor, but it was good to see his first extended family, happy and warm and alive in his arms. Data released her and turned to Geralt. “I understand this might not be what you expected.”

“No it is not.” One eye on Worf, Geralt clapped a hand on Data's back, hugging him tight. “Where the fuck are we?”

“You are aboard the USS Enterprise,” Captain Picard said, stepping forward a little. The warning lights of red alert continued to blare as Picard looked over the two people who just teleported onto his ship, their warp speed travel doing nothing to stop them. “Even if you are... acquainted with Mr. Data, we ask that all guests store their weapons while on board. If you can agree to those terms, I'd be happy to welcome you.”

There was a tug inside of Data, a pull between his past family (standing in front of him, radiant and healthy and alive) and his current family. While his oath to the Federation did not cancel out his allegiance to the School of the Wolf, the tearing in his chest was not pleasant. “Captain, if I might suggest: a Witcher is not easily parted with his swords. Geralt could store them in my quarters for the time being? If that is acceptable to you?”

Picard's eyes flashed to Worf. “What say you, Mr. Worf?”

“Is it highly unusual...”

“I vouch for them while they are on board,” Data said in a last, desperate plea. Ciri could easily teleport them out, go visit Data in their present, but an ache in his heart made that option almost unbearable. Geralt was here, not a holodeck projection, but a real flesh and blood presence. He hadn't seen his brothers in so long. For the first time, the sheet of glass inside Data started to crack.

“Mr. Worf,” Picard said carefully, “if Lieutenant Commander Data vouches for these visitors, I don't see why we can't accommodate them.”

With a grumble, Worf nodded and put his phaser away. “I shall escort you to the Lieutenant Commander's quarters.”

“This way, please.”

“Lieutenant Commander?” Geralt whispered. “Data, are you in the army?”

“The future doesn't work like that,” Ciri said, her eyes trying to look everywhere at once as they followed Worf and Data to the turbolift. “Right, Data? There's peace here. I think I've been to this place before...”

“There is peace. Mostly.” Witchers weren't supposed to involve themselves in politics, and Data wouldn't bore Geralt with the inner workings of the Federation, they might need another thousand years to get through that.

Geralt did not like the turbolift and it took both Data and Ciri reassuring him they were safe. “You've fallen down a cliff before,” Ciri said rather unhelpfully. “It's just like that, but the box slows your fall.” Data counted them lucky every moment Worf didn't shoot Geralt.

By the time they got to his quarters, Geralt stopped jumping at every automatic door swishing open. With Ciri's hand on his arm, he calmed a little. “Data, _these_ are your quarters?” Geralt was on high alert from their strange surroundings, but that didn't prevent him from gawking. Geralt enjoyed simple luxuries—a good bath, a nice thick blanket, a warm fire—and Data's clean, orderly quarters must look like a palace, even compared to the halls of Kaer Morhen.

“He is an officer,” Worf said. “These are officer's quarters. Please, store your weapons and I will return to my duties.”

Data wasn't looking forward to this part. “I store my weapons in the bedroom closet.” They all followed him and Data felt a low simmer of tension across his shoulders. He didn't want to spill this secret, not to Worf, there was simply too much to explain.

When he opened the closet, his own armor and swords arranged carefully, Worf grunted. “These are beautiful pieces, why don't you display them?”

“For once, I agree,” Geralt said, shrugging out of his sword belts and placing them next to Data's, Ciri's single sword nestled between them. “Are you in hiding here, Data? Why doesn't anyone know what you are?” He hadn't heard the word Witcher once since they arrived, only from Data's lips. The lack of cruel glares and open jeering was nice, but no knowledge at all? Had they truly disappeared form the world?

Data pressed his lips together, hand lingering on the other door of the closet. He hadn't opened it yet, he didn't want Worf to see... “The past was a tumultuous place. Once humans found peace, some of the old cultures fell away.”

The swords safely secured, Worf let his “chief of security” facade drop for a moment. “There are those of us who still prize the warrior cultures. I have tried asking Data when I saw him with that armor, those swords. I think he should be proud.”

“I am proud. It is simply a lot to explain.”

Geralt nodded. “He's right there. Witchers are... it's a lot.”

“Hmm, Witchers,” Worf grumbled, almost to himself. “I will leave you be. Data, let me know if you need any assistance.”

He waited for Worf to leave his quarters, the outside door swishing open, then closed again, before opening the closet fully. Across from his armor, Data had paintings of them all, Geralt and Ciri, Eskel, Vesemir, Lambert with Aiden the few times they visited Kaer Morhen together. He reached into the top of the closet and pulled down a painting of the castle, then another, before and after it was ruined.

“Data!” Ciri surged forward, touching the canvases with careful fingers, tracing the line of her own scar replicated in exquisite detail. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Data looked up at Geralt, another set of yellow eyes boring into his for the first time in... far too long. “I am not ashamed of my past, I simply wish to keep my memories as my own.”

The tension in Geralt's shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Clapping Data on the back, he pulled him away. “Come now, show us the future. And tell me how the fuck you got here.”

“The long way.”

Data showed them around his quarters as he explained—how he discovered his near immortality when it was already too late, he was the last Witcher. “And after a while, no one remembered what Witchers were,” he said. Ciri sat at the table, listening intently, as Geralt poked around his room, looking at all the futuristic technology, the buttons and lights.

“We've known for a while that the mages had no clue what they were doing,” Geralt said. “As long as you're happy.” He stopped in front of the replicator, head cocked like a confused puppy. “Ciri, next time tell me about visiting a world where people have metal in their heads, I'll believe you.”

She laughed, a lovely sound Data didn't know he missed until this very moment. “No you won't.”

“Can we see the rest of this place? You said it's a ship?” Geralt asked.

“Of course.”

The doors swished open to find Riker standing in the hall, hand poised to ring the bell. That handsome smile flashed across his face and he stepped back to let them through, bowing his head to greet Geralt and Ciri. “I came to see how Data's friends were settling in. You gave us all quite a shock up there.”

“Geralt, Ciri, this is Commander Will Riker, first officer.”

The movement was too subtle for Riker to catch, but Data certainty heard the sharp inhale from Geralt as he locked eyes with Riker. “Nice to meet you!” Ciri chirped, shaking the offered hand. Geralt did as well, then arched an eyebrow at Data. Data ignored him. “We were going for a tour of the ship,” Ciri said. “Would you like to join us?”

“I'd be delighted.” Will extended his arm and let them go before him, falling back for a moment to whisper to Data. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” he joked, eyes sparkling. Data's stomach always flopped when Riker gave him that look, his chest tightening in a way that wasn't fear. He didn't know what it was. “You never said anything about a family.”

“There is a lot to explain. The conversation usually is not worth the time it takes.” He'd tried a few times, Dr. Soong seemed interested in Data's past, but he was too focused on his experiments and never really grasped the full scope of it. He was more interested in studying Data's mutations and what they might be able to add to the study of human medicine; Data enjoyed his time with Dr. Soong regardless.

Will's eyes softened. “Data, you know I'll listen to anything you want to tell me. Now come on.” He pulled away, walking next to Geralt and Ciri. “The rest of the crew is in Ten Forward—that's our main relaxation area—they want to hear all about Data's friends.”

“Friends? More like family.” Ciri reached back and looped her arm around Data's, dragging him along.

Will showed them all the most interesting areas on the ship; they went back to the bridge for a proper look, then down to engineering, where Ciri recognized some of the components of the warp drive from another world she'd visited. Geralt was most interested in the arboretum, picking out which plants could be useful in potions. Data almost smiled, he felt the warmth in his chest that made him want to smile. “I have not had need for a potion in so very long.”

The crowd in Ten Forward was buzzing with excitement, Dr. Crusher asked about their clothing. “I direct most of the plays around here, I'm always on the look out for costume ideas. Your armor is wonderful. Do you mind?” She ran her hands over the smooth leather, smiling wide.

Geordi bought them all drinks and laughed as Geralt poked the fizzing concoction in front of him. “It's good, trust me!”

“Data hasn't told us anything of his family,” Deanna said. Her gaze flicked back and forth between Geralt and Ciri, the way they smiled and leaned in close to each other, before pulling Data along with them. Deanna was the only one who sort of knew about Data's emotional difficulties, that he simply couldn't access them. She tried to work with him and they made a little progress, but Data knew he was a lost cause. Having his family back for the moment though... he almost started to feel something, and Deanna definitely noticed.

While Will chatted and encouraged Geralt and Ciri to try new things, he mostly sat back, hand brushing against Data's every once in a while. “Is this what all those secret holodeck programs are about? Your family?”

Data nodded. “Yes. I do not wish to keep them secret... they are precious memories to me. I do not want them misunderstood.” Training at Kaer Morhen was just the beginning of it, Data had programs of the battle, the fanatics coming in an destroying their home. Deanna suggested revisiting painful memories might help unlock the rest of his emotions, so he watched the old battles over and over again, saw his family cut down so many times. In a way, it did help, but he couldn't begin to explain it to anyone, even to Will.

“I understand. If you don't want us to see, I'll respect your decision. But maybe your family might want to know what you remember of them? How fondly you keep their memories?”

Data's chest swelled with pride. “Yes, I wish to show them.” He didn't know until the moment Will said it, but Data wasn't going to let Geralt and Ciri return to their time thinking Data shoved them away in a closet. He might not be able to explain his feelings or touch them at all, but he cared for his family in his own way.

Data finished his drink and stood up. “Geralt, it has been too long since we crossed swords.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in mock indifference. “Oh really, think you can take me, book worm?”

“Always.”

“Then let's go!” Geralt slammed down the rest of his drink and stood. “Where's your training arena? This place is big enough, you must have one.”

“Follow me.”

After a quick detour to his quarters for Data to retrieve Geralt's swords—Worf allowed it, eager to watch their “battle,” as he called it—and put on his armor. Usually steady fingers shook as he fastened buckles and made sure everything was exactly in place. Data had never... no one had seen him like this in a very, very long time. But familiar leather and metal held him like an old lover, his armor knew his body and its curves almost better than Data knew himself.

He stepped out into the corridor to join Worf, Geralt and Ciri. Geralt nodded. “Now that's the Data I remember, the yellow pajamas were... strange.”

They made their way down to the holodeck, Worf almost vibrating next to him. “I will explain to you later,” Data promised, intending to keep his word this time. “You will enjoy learning about this warrior tradition.”

“I most certainly will.”

A small crowd had gathered outside the holodeck, Deanna, Geordi, Chief O'Brien, Captain Picard, and Will. Riker spotted them first, his eyes sparkling with mad glee. “You look amazing.” Data took a minute to preen, showing off his armor that was just as well maintained as Geralt's. Both of them wearing the traditional Wolf School armor, they made quite a pair.

His fingers itched as he opened up his private programs, finding the Kaer Morhen training grounds and clearing all the holoprojections, leaving only the keep. The door swished open and they all headed inside. “Everyone,” Data said to his crew, his new family, “welcome to my home. Welcome to Kaer Morhen.”

“Data,” Picard sighed, taking it all in. “This is breathtaking.”

Everyone wandered around for a moment, taking in the new surroundings, the new things they were learning about Data. Just like he remembered, Geralt was impatient. With his swords returned to him, he rolled the steel over in his wrist, loosening his body, getting ready to spar. “Come on, Data, you promised me a fight.”

Ciri and the rest of their spectators took seats on the benches, watching with wide eyes as Data and Geralt squared off. “This is always a good fight,” Ciri told Will, who sat next to her. “Geralt has more power, but Data is quicker. They're evenly matched.”

“You don't say. Care to make it interesting?” Will said. He unclipped a pip from his collar, holding it out for Ciri to inspect. “A memory from your visit in exchange for something Data will like.”

She smiled at the offering and dug in her pouch, handing Riker a small vial of arenaria petals. “From what I recognize from this time, I believe these flowers no longer exist here. He likes them, they all do, a sweet smell amongst all the unpleasantness they have to face. Data will love them.”

Wager made, she placed the vial in Riker's hand. He turned it around, looking at the delicate white petals. “Thank you, I'll try to replicate the scent once you're gone.”

“Good.” Her eyes on the fight, she smirked. “Tell me, Commander Riker, how long have you been in love with my uncle?”

~

Steel clanged together, sending a vibration of thrill down Data's spine. This feeling he knew, he almost felt it every time he and Geralt sparred on the holodeck, only this time, it was _real_. Really Geralt, gritting his teeth with the effort, moving his feet to counter Data's slightly quicker step and calculating eyes. It was part of the challenge—move fast enough and change direction quick enough to outmaneuver Data's calculations, but still hold onto the power needed for the rest of the fight—because fighting with Data was always a challenge. Geralt and Eskel were so in sync, two halves of the same coin, and Lambert had his tells, but Data was the challenge for Geralt. He was happy to see some things never changed.

 _But_ , with all of Data's friends watching, and a pair of bright blue eyes tracking the other Witcher very closely, a blush stealing across bearded cheeks, Geralt knew winning wasn't so important here. He let Data tie him up so they could get in close. “Tell me about him. Will, right?”

Data pushed Geralt away, striking again. “It's nothing,” he said, too low for any of the humans to pick up.

“Oh yes, _nothing_ ,” Geralt whispered back, dodging a strike. “Just like Jaskier is _nothing_ to me. I know the power those kind of eyes can have.” Geralt ducked a swing and got in close again, pretending to push Data back. “C'mon, it's me, I know what those looks mean...”

Data said nothing. He peered out of the corner of his eye and watched Riker bouncing in his seat, fists clenched each time Data landed a blow, a soft, “Yeah! Go Data!” on his lips. The moment Riker came onto the ship, Data knew he was in trouble. Back in the day, Geralt truly was the last one to clue into Jaskier's desires, the rest of them could smell it a mile away, the longing looks he cast towards the White Wolf, the flowery ballads and poems he composed. Data forgot almost nothing, and he sure as hell remembered the looks Jaskier sent Geralt's way. And he'd seen the same look in Riker's eyes more than once.

“Show off for him,” Geralt said. “I'll make it good.”

Shifting his attention back to the sparring, Data nodded. “Thank you, my friend.”

Geralt did indeed make it look good. He came around with a giant swing—far slower than normal—and let Data get under his guard, dealing a strike that would've disemboweled a real enemy. Crouched on one knee, sword pressed against Geralt's soft belly, Data almost smiled. “Do you yield, brother?”

Geralt sighed and sheathed his sword. “Yes, I yield. But you won't get me next time.”

“Marvelous!” Picard rose to his feet and started to clap, the others following suit. Geralt grunted, then gave a bow.

“Jaskier's a bad influence,” he mumbled before Data could mock him.

“Dinner in Ten Forward, my treat,” Will said, tucking his prize away and handing Ciri the pip from his collar. “Data, don't you dare take off that armor, you look amazing.”

They all went back to Ten Forward and ate like kings, Geralt nodding approvingly at each dish as it was presented. “Nice place you've got here, Data,” he said.

“That is high praise from him,” Data assured Guinan before she threw Geralt out for insulting her bar, damning it with faint praise.

With Geralt and Ciri on one side, Will claimed the seat at Data's other side, his eyes roving over the beautiful armor. Every once in a while, he'd glance to Geralt's, as if comparing the two. “You don't have a medallion?” he finally said.

Geralt and Worf were comparing sword techniques, not listening at all, Will's words were for Data alone, his hand on his own knee, fingers so very close to brushing Data's leg. “I do,” he said after a long moment. Of course, the always observant First Officer saw the wolf head medallion around Geralt's neck, saw where it rested on top of his armor, and the one Ciri had at her belt... but Data didn't show his off. _Clever bastard_ , he thought, a begrudging endearment Geralt lobbed at Jaskier many, many times.

“Why don't you wear it?” Riker was so close, Data felt the heat of his skin. He tried to keep his senses under control, lest the scents of humanity overwhelm him, but oh, did Data want to get Will's scent in his lungs. “Worf wears his Klingon regalia, shouldn't you wear your Witcher regalia? I don't think the Federation would deny you, if it's so important.”

“It is important,” Data said. “However, it is not the same. Witchers are not...” He did not want to explain this in the middle of Ten Forward. The world Data lived in now was free of the prejudices of the past, but the words that were slung at him and his brothers still stung, still left a bad taste in his mouth he knew was shame and anger. “We are not an army, we are not men. We are mutations. Taken as children, we were changed against our will. The world used to hate us for what it did to us. I do not wish to burden you with such knowledge.”

Now, Will did reach out, his hand warm on Data's knee... comforting. “I'm sorry, Data. I never knew.”

“I did not want you to.” He glanced away from Geralt and Ciri—now arguing with Worf about most efficient curve on a sword—and fell into Will's eyes, as bright blue as Jaskier's all those years ago. Data had watched Geralt fall more and more in love with the bard as the years went by, and the flutter in his chest was somehow familiar. “However, I think I might want to talk about it. Some day. Will you give me time?”

A soft smile curved Will's lips and he nodded. “You can have all the time you need.”

Will left his hand on Data's knee, shifting it a little to grab some dessert. Data couldn't help but stare at that hand, thinking of all the other times Will touched him, like when he thought Data was hurt, grabbing tight to make sure he was all in one piece. And there was one night, when Will doubted Data's alcohol tolerance and shiny, drunk eyes watched in terrified awe as Data downed a full bottle of Vodka.

He rubbed a hand over Data's leg, trying to keep his balance. “Wow, thatss, that sure is somethin',” Will slurred, then let Data carry him to his room. All those small touches... and now Data wanted more.

“We should go,” Ciri said once they'd all had their fill. “We still promised Data a visit in our time, I don't think you'd count this.”

“You are right, safe travels.”

The crew said their goodbyes and Data walked Ciri and Geralt back to his quarters. He wished to say his own goodbyes privately. Ciri hugged him so tight, Data almost couldn't breathe. “I have missed you,” he whispered into her ear, breathing in deep to get her scent one last time.

“Stay safe.” She gave Data one last squeeze, then let Geralt through.

Geralt moved in close, pressing their foreheads together and sharing their breath, the traditional winter greeting. Data closed his eyes and saw the cooking fire in the great hall, Vesemir sitting, smiling proudly, all his pups made it home this year... “Safe travels, my brother,” Data said.

“And to you. Don't let your _bard_ wait too long.” With a slap to his shoulder, Geralt stepped back and held Ciri's hand.

Data blinked, and they were gone.

~

The next morning, the bridge was still buzzing with the excitement of their visitors. “That was quite fun, Mr. Data,” Captain Picard said when Data reported for his shift. “I enjoyed getting to know your family.”

“I enjoyed seeing them again.”

Slowly, Data got more comfortable with everyone knowing. Worf asked first, “What is a Witcher?” Data told him everything he knew, which was a lot.

Deanna was interested as well. “You said your limited emotions were the result of a medical procedure, but I never imagined...”

Yet, the only opinion he cared for was Will's, and for once, Data decided to take Geralt's advice. Eskel always said, “Never trust Geralt's love advice, or you'll end up naked and chained to a bed by a sorceress.” But he had a good feeling about this, the fact that Data had any feeling was the real tip off. Seeing Geralt and Ciri again... the glass inside him truly started to crack.

He invited Will to his quarters. “I want to show you something,” he whispered as they entered the turbolift after their bridge shift. “Dinner in my quarters?”

That fetching blush stole across Riker's cheeks again, and he smiled. “I'd love to.”

Data took great care to lay out his armor, showcasing it's strength and beauty, his swords bracketing it on either side. He put up a few easels and took out his favorite paintings—of Kaer Morhen, of his brothers sparring in the courtyard, of Geralt and Jaskier leaning together at the dinner table—and finally, he pulled his medallion from its box. He had to keep it safe, he told himself. Replicating pieces of his armor was one thing, but once the magic of his medallion was gone, it was lost forever, the last bit of magic left in his life... He tucked it into his shirt, the cool metal quickly warming against his skin.

The door chimed and Data stood up straight. “Come in, please.”

“Hello Data, thank you for inviting me—oh,” Will, bottle of wine in hand, cut himself off as soon as his eyes landed on the paintings. “Data, those are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Taking the bottle of wine, Data set it aside to chill, then led Will over towards the table with his armor. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes, I really would.”

Data showed him everything, all the memories and keepsakes he still had, which wasn't much, it was hard to keep objects pristine after a thousand or so years, but he did his best. The paintings caught Will's eye more than anything else; he'd seen Data's art before, but never the paintings of his past, for all Will knew, Data only painted the Enterprise.

He stopped in front of the piece with Jaskier leaning into Geralt. “I love this one, of your friend, Geralt and his... husband? Boyfriend?”

Data thought for a moment. “We did not think about them that way, in those days. Jaskier was simply Geralt's bard, and we left it at that. But yes, they were very much in love.”

Will touched Data's armor and swords with reverent fingers, before turning and touching Data, his hand finding the hard surface of the medallion under his shirt. “Is this your medallion? Is it the same as Geralt's?”

“Yes.” Data pulled it out of his shirt and let Will feel the metal, trace the outline of the wolf's head. “I was a Witcher of the School of the Wolf.”

“Was?”

“I have not killed a monster in so very long, I do not feel I count anymore.”

“No, I think you're wrong.” Will shook his head and let go of the medallion, laying it on top of Data's shirt so it was still visible. “I've done some reading these past few days and managed to find a history of Witchers. Harrowing stuff. And then I found another book.” He turned and pointed at the painting, at Jaskier's face soft with love for Geralt. “You said his name is Jaskier? Yes, the book was from a Jaskier, a treatise on Witchers.”

Data almost smiled. “Jaskier was very kind to us. He loved Geralt, he had every reason to soften our image to the world.”

“Well...” Will stepped in close, his hand over the medallion again, feeling Data's achingly slow heart beat right next to it. “According to this Jaskier, one never really stops being a Witcher. I'm inclined to agree with him.”

Their lips were a scant breath away. Will was like that, he had an easy companionship about him, everyone was his best friend; he'd lean in to share a joke or show something on a screen... he had a way with people that Data never would, much like Geralt and Jaskier... _Fuck_ , Lambert cursed inside his head.

“How hungry are you?” Data asked.

“Not very.”

Before Data could suggest moving this to a more intimate setting—the couch, maybe even the bedroom—Will's lips were on his, kissing deep. For the first time in so very long, Data breathed in deep, smelling Will like he'd smell any lover of old, letting his scent fill his consciousness. Will Riker smelled of wood and musk and... “Arenaria?”

“What?” A little dazed, Will pulled back, but only far enough to break the kiss, he was still very much in Data's space, and if he had his way, Will would stay there all night. “Oh, yes.” He produced a small bottle filled with the petals and handed it to Data. “Ciri gave it to me. She said you all enjoyed that scent. I'm trying to replicate it for you. I know it probably won't be as exact, but I thought—”

Data cupped a hand behind Will's neck, pulling him into another kiss, this one hungrier as he nipped at soft lips and let the smooth hair of Will's beard tickle his lips. “It is perfect, thank you.” Setting the bottle down carefully with his armor, Data's fingers started pulling Will out of his clothing. Deft hands that were skilled with a sword, with a phaser, or at a computer consul, Data could do so many things with his hands, right now, he wanted to get Will naked.

He slid the zipper all the way to Will's navel before pausing. “Is this alright?” he whispered against Will's lips.

“Yes, Data, it very much is.”

A trail of clothing followed them to the bedroom. They shifted, Will falling back onto the bed; he tilted his chin up, eyes sparkling in invitation. Data went to grab his medallion, set it aside. “No!” Will sat up and held tight to his hand. “Leave it. You should wear it. _Please_ , wear it.”

“If you like.”

Will lay back on the bed and let his legs fall open, inviting Data in. Blanketing across Will's chest, Data kissed him again, lips traveling down to lick across his adam's apple, bite at his collarbone and then his nipples. His cock stood up, leaking against his belly. Data licked that too, earning him a deep groan.

A little fumbling for lube (it had been a while) and Data had two fingers inside Will. Old urges, old instincts he hadn't felt in a thousand years pushed him to claim, take Will as his own. Damn Wolf instincts... Geralt always lamented them every time he bit Jaskier too hard and left a bruise. When the same urge overtook Data and he sucked a large bruise into Will's thigh, Will keened, “Fuck, Data, yes!” So Data bit and sucked, marking Will's thighs and belly as he pushed a third finger in.

Soon enough, Will was panting, his hands grabbing the blankets, hips bucking with need. “Please, don't make me wait.” Data looked up and blue eyes sparkled down at him. “Haven't we waited long enough?”

“Yes, I believe we have.”

The day Will arrived on the Enterprise, he found Data on the holodeck—one of his public programs, a forest in the Morhen Valley—and as he introduced himself, their eyes locked. “Wow,” he whispered. “The gold eyes, they're so... pretty.”

 _Pretty_. He thought Data was pretty. Right from the start. Whenever Jaskier told the story of the moment he laid eyes on Geralt, he always told it the same way, “He was far too handsome, almost _pretty_. Should've known I was in love right there.” With no further embellishments, Data almost believed Jaskier was telling the truth... but you could never tell with bards.

Data slicked his cock and rested the head at Will's hole. “Alright?”

“Yes, Data, if you don't put it in me, I'm going to leave.”

Data shook his head, letting his hips move forward oh so slow, gently spreading Will open with the head of his cock. “I believe that to be an empty threat.”

“Uh, yes. More,” Will almost whined.

Data did give him more, slowly pushing in until his hips were flush with Will's ass. A bead of sweat made its way down his neck and Data licked it away, getting more of that masculine, musky smell in his lungs. He started slow, rolling his hips gently. Will responded by wrapping his legs around Data and pulling him in, demanding without words, _faster_.

Heat built in the pit of Data's stomach, far to fast for his liking. He fumbled between their bellies and wrapped a hand around Will's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. “I can go again, if this is not satisfactory...”

“Data, this is satisfactory, believe me.” The rest of Will's words were lost to deep, rumbling moans.

Data licked him again, inhaling deeply. “You smell wonderful.”

Will arched an eyebrow, fingers digging into Data's back. “Is that you talking? Or the _wolf_?”

“Yes,” Data grunted.

His hips were fully snapping now, pounding into the strong human under him. For years, Data was worried his strength would harm a human partner, and he always let Tasha take the lead when they were together... but Will was so _solid_ , his wide torso reminded Data of Eskel, sturdy enough to take whatever he dished out. “More,” he grunted. “Data, yes, harder!” His medallion was trapped between them, the warm metal reflecting the frantic heart of the human underneath him.

With one hand stripping Will's cock, the other gripping his hip, Data came, throwing his head back before leaning forward and sinking his teeth into Will's shoulder. The scent of come filled the air and Will's cock pulsed in his hand. Another moment of moaning, and then everything went silent...

Data licked the bite at Will's neck and pulled out, checking to see if he'd done any real damage. All he found were a few bruises and a dumb grin across Riker's face. Data almost managed to smile. “Good?”

“Good,” Will moaned.

They cleaned up and fell into bed, Will arranging Data's arms around him. “Your family should teleport in more often, if this is the result.”

He raked fingers through sweaty hair, taking another deep breath of Will's scent. “Ciri's powers are... not exact. I do not believe I shall see them again.”

“But it wass nice,” Will said, sleep starting to slur his words. “They were nice. They love you, that was obvious.”

“Yes, they do. And I love them.”

With Will asleep at his side, the soft human heart lapsing to a slower, resting beat, Data closed his eyes and the glass inside him cracked a little more.

~

Data walked onto the bridge the next morning. “Good morning, Mr. Data, ah—” A small smile curled Picard's lips. “Good to see all members of my crew feel comfortable wearing their regalia.” He returned to his chair, leaning over to speak with Will about their heading.

Data took his station, his wolf medallion shining bright on his chest.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> While I love, love Geralt's starting armor from the games, I wanted him and Data to match, so they have the Wolf School armor.


End file.
